The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,153
that.”
The way she said it, with the calm of the ageless, made a final, awful piece snap into place in Claire’s brain. Her anger fell. “This isn’t coming from Lucifer at all.”
“No.” Malphas leaned back, crossing scarred, muscled arms. “When Hell comes for you, little mortal, you’ll know it.”
Claire tried to ignore that. “The books . . . have a grievance?”
Malphas cast a look around the ash-strewn hall. “Wouldn’t you?”
The Library had always been not quite quiet. Silence was always built on the susurrus of rustling pages, the creak of leather spines, the rumbles of stories sleeping fitfully. There was none of that now. The books slept, but dreamlessly. It turned the Library into a tomb, and again the dust of a thousand books turned to graves clogged Claire’s chest. “And the Library chooses its librarian,” Claire said dully. “But in the stacks, they—it, the Library—withdrew. It gave me a chance to make things right.”
“And that’s what you’ll do, as Arcanist,” Malphas said. “The Arcane Wing will no longer be a threat.”
Claire knew it wasn’t wise to look away from Malphas, but she found her gaze had drifted to the cluttered desk in front of her. The new stitches on Hero’s book had tightened. Claire picked up scissors and began mechanically snipping off the loose ends. She had cleaned up only two knots when Malphas broke out with a terrifying sound: laughter.
“Despair is such a dull look on you. Don’t start boring me now.” Malphas leaned over the desk, looking every inch the dotty, harmless old woman she pretended to be. “You’ll still work in the Library, of course. There’s plenty of work to do to clean up your mess. As you said, the Arcane Wing and the Unwritten Wing are the allies that make the Library. I never had much patience for reading, but it gives Hell an air of erudite respectability.”
“As Arcanist, I get to choose my assistants.” Rather than let it sink in, Claire latched onto a demand at random. She glanced briefly at Rami. “I won’t work with those vile creatures Andras had in here.”
“Easy enough. You destroyed most of them anyway,” Malphas reminded her. She slid off the desk, rolling her shoulders like she’d won something. “I’ll leave you to give your pawns the good news.”
The demon disappeared in a swirl of iron and cinnamon. Claire stared at her desk. She found herself preoccupied with the knots twisted on Hero’s book, noting the irregularities for trimming. Her hands clenched when Rami cleared his throat.
“I can go find Brevity. If you . . .” He trailed off when Claire nodded, and he turned and disappeared into the stacks.
Claire tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She drew in a slow breath and exhaled firmly, driving out any thought of the changes to come. She shuddered, eyes squeezed tighter.
When she could be sure of herself, she twisted in her chair and squinted at the unmoving body on the couch. The body whose face hadn’t moved but whose breathing had shifted just slightly when Malphas appeared.
“I suppose you heard all that.”
A whisper of movement tugged up the corner of Hero’s lips. He kept his eyes closed, but his color was better. When his lips parted, Hero’s voice was hoarse. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Rami was concerned about you. You could have said something.”
“I like playing hard to get.”
Claire snorted. “You do love a chase.”
Hero couldn’t quite manage a laugh, and when he tried, it turned into a pathetic, stumbling cough. He licked his lips with some effort. “Did you destroy all the pages of the codex?”
Claire’s smile was bitter. “Maybe. Maybe not. Better to let the courts wonder. The Library will be vulnerable for a while. If I did destroy them, we’re fair game. Open to being swept up by the next demon with a hunger for power. If I didn’t, then I’m a threat only Lucifer has the authority to address. Until they know, even Malphas will stay out of the Library.”
Hero huffed weakly. “Clever.”
“I learned from the best.” Claire’s eyes dodged to Andras’s dagger. She turned back to the book in front of her and picked up the paste brush again. “For now I’ll need to finish fixing your binding. Again.”
“Maybe you’ll get it right this time.”
“Everybody’s a critic,” Claire muttered as she began to apply the paste where the binding would adhere to leather. She worked in quiet for a few moments until Hero spoke again.